


Despondence Dispelled

by calamari_from_beyond



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Referenced past abuse, in which lena is adopted by drake and lp in addition to gosalyn, the mallard-mcquack household is an orphan magnet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamari_from_beyond/pseuds/calamari_from_beyond
Summary: Two instances in which Drake and Launchpad are good dads and one instance where Lena is a good sister.





	Despondence Dispelled

“I don’t know if I should be here anymore.”

The confession probably wasn’t supposed to come out the way that it did. 

Faring against the blare of the sax-jammed ‘Darkwing Duck’ end theme, Lena had probably intended for her voice to pervade throughout the room; instilling her confidence. Instead, the sentence dwindled the second it left her tongue, barely audible and voice cracking.

After completing some preliminary S.H.U.S.H paperwork in his home office, Drake had not been surprised to step out into the living room and see Launchpad on the couch, fast asleep with his head thrown back against leathered cushion.

He had not, however, expected to spot Lena curled up in a fetal position, resting her back against the front door. It had been difficult to see her at first; she blended in so well with the shadows.

_Pretty funny, considering…_

Drake preferred not to dwell on the past of their current houseguest. Not as though the details relayed to him through Launchpad had made any sense to him whatsoever. 

_“Oh, she was kind of a slave to an evil sorceress who was also her aunt who also zapped her and she became Webby’s shadow for half a year. But, she’s back and more concrete than ever!”_

That winding puzzle of a sentence was the most he had been able to squeeze out of Launchpad, and he had recounted it as if it were the most mundane thing, like discussing the weather. 

And ever since he had offered up their place for the teenager to stay at, temporarily (while it was disputed where she would live permanently), Lena had almost purposefully avoided any discussion about what she had endured. Especially when it came to her aforementioned aunt, Drake noted. It felt like she had a lot of negative emotions accumulating under the surface, like some sort of dam, one day destined to burst. 

Whenever the topic of family came up naturally in a conversation, she steered clear of talking about biological family members and spoke fondly of the McDucks. 

She talked a lot about that Vanderquack girl in particular. When Webby had parted her hair differently. After pointing at a random blouse at the mall and remarking, _“Webby’s got this exact shirt… it’d blow her mind if I was wearing it at the same time she was wearing hers. Let’s buy it!”._ Breathlessly recounting their adventures together, instances where they had held hands _‘the entire time’._ No matter what the situation was, her name was almost _always_ at Lena’s use. Drake pondered inquiring further about this, but ultimately felt like it wasn’t his place.

He wasn’t her _dad,_ after all. 

But, regardless, he was curious. 

Lena was open to him to a certain point (she seemed to be much closer to Launchpad, which Drake understood because the two had known each other for far longer) but in typical teen fashion, they would get in semi-frequent arguments. Arguments that Launchpad, the golden-hearted people pleaser that he was, never wanted to be in the middle of.

Her snarkiness knew no bounds. Drake had grown accustomed to it by now, but the adjustment period had been rough. Coupled with the usual rebellious attitude and unnecessary quips, Lena was by all accounts an ex-criminal… and that did not fare well with a vigilante hellbent on moral righteousness. 

When Drake suspected that one of his neighbors was hoarding his lawnmower, Lena offered to break into his garage and take it back. Even when she claimed she had said it as a joke (which, judging by her demeanor, she really hadn’t), Drake felt the need to whip out the old lecture on _‘kicking bad habits’_ and _‘becoming familiar with the likes of the common do-gooder’._

He had only gotten ten seconds in before Lena merely rolled her eyes and suggested a… certain place he could shove his _‘stupid hero spiel I’ve heard a thousand times’._

During these confrontations, Lena’s age manifested in the way she angrily crossed her arms, the way she parted her hair to keep part of her face concealed, the way she would always speak up if she felt like he was being unreasonable. 

But seeing Lena in her current state, looking so small, so defenseless… it almost made him crumble. 

Drake had taken a seat next to her. He found his mouth to be far too dry for talking. “What… what do you mea-”

Lena’s figure receded further into the darkness. “I just don’t feel like I fit in. It’s nothing against you two,” she was quick to assert. “You guys are cool. Well, maybe not _cool_ … you’re pretty dorky, actually. Especially you, Mr. Abide-by-the-Law.”

Drake narrowed his eyes, showing clear offense to this. 

“Having an encyclopedic knowledge of a twenty-five year old TV show is _not_ dorky,” he insisted. 

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that when you willingly wear those things.” She pointed to the blatant Megavolt slippers that covered his feet. Drake couldn’t help but let out a terse laugh. 

“Alright, alright, but, uh… what were you saying? About… about not wanting to be here.” All manner of joking was sucked out of the air between them as Lena struggled to maintain eye contact.

“I never said I didn’t want- ugh, I don’t know,” Lena huffed, staring down at her knees. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

Against any and all emotional backwash, Drake found himself wrapping an arm around the teen. It was a little awkward, sure, but a nice gesture nonetheless. “Hey. It’s not stupid, Lena,” he softly assured her. “You’re not gonna hurt my feelings. Just… say what’s on your mind.”

Lena, tense from the contact, looked skeptical for a moment. Drake felt like he had crossed an unspoken barrier and was about to retract and add that she didn’t have to divulge anything she didn’t want to, when it happened. The metaphorical dam broke… metaphorically. 

“Ever since I got back, everything feels… weird. Like, I was trapped in a place where no one could see me, no one could hear me, and I couldn’t interact with anything for... months. I thought I was just doomed to a life of isolation and I kind of accepted it. Then, I’m brought back through the _magic of friendship,_ I guess, and now… what? I’m not used to all this fussing over my wellbeing. I’m not used to being cared for, and I barely feel worthy of it, half the time.”

Drake continued to nod his head, to listen. It felt very important that she was talking about this, and all that was needed of him at the moment was to give her an audience. To demonstrate to her that he was worthy of her trust.

“I don’t even know what’s keeping me alive right now. Ma… _my_ amulet flew inside my chest when I was still spectral. I think that’s how I managed to maintain my form once the incantation destroyed everything else, but I’m… scared, dude. I’m really scared,” Lena admitted, her voice coming out in a tremble. 

Inch by inch, she leaned forward, the light from the TV illuminating her face enough to really see it. It was clear by the smudged mascara staining her cheeks that she had been crying.

“What if the amulet has a limited amount of magic keeping me here, and the second it runs out, I’m done for? What if I just randomly start disintegrating in the middle of movie night with Webby and Vi? I… I hate not knowing. At least in the shadow realm, I adapted to Webby’s routine and didn’t have to be afraid of… vanishing. A-and… and I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to leave her like that again. To make her cry. I wanna be around to protect her.”

By now, all other sound in the household had given way to Lena’s venting (excluding the ongoing snores resounding from Launchpad). The way it was able to generate such silence to the point where Drake couldn’t hear anything else even if he tried was a testament to the weight of her words.

He couldn’t even say anything, for the time being. He was still processing everything she had said. 

Amidst the lack of any verbal acknowledgement from Drake, Lena laughed despite herself. 

“...You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Removed from his silent musing, Drake found his voice then. “...I... don’t exactly recall the term ‘shadow realm’ being thrown around in the explanation I was given…”

A hand went to her face. She began to vigorously rub her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Sorry... for going off like that.”

Her apology was met with vehement fussing from Drake, who opted to draw her close to him. No hesitance this time; only driven by the need to make her feel better. 

“No! No, don’t apologize, Lena. Seriously,” he hurriedly insisted. Miraculously, he avoided tripping over his own words. “And don’t be afraid to just… vent, to either one of us. Even if we don’t fully understand.”

Her body seemed to loosen up, encased in the warm fondness of his embrace. “I know that,” she replied after a brief pause. “Thanks.”

“But… if I may respond, to what you said…”

Lena didn’t shoot him down, so he pressed forward.

“I can’t possibly imagine what you're going through, what with… your whole ‘situation’. I really am so sorry you went through all of that-- it sounds _terrifying_. And when you fight murderous clowns on a bi-weekly basis, I think you’re more than enough qualified to say what’s terrifying and what’s not,” he stated with fervor. Lena snorted, coming to rest her head on his shoulder. With that, Drake felt a surge of confidence… and newly found trust. 

“And this Webby, I’ve heard you talk a lot about her ventures off with McDuck and the rest of the kids. It’s clear you care a lot about her, right?”

Drake couldn’t see Lena’s face, but soon felt her give a small nod. “Mmm hm,” she hummed. Now _this_ was progress. 

“I understand that. I care a lot about some people too, and worry about their safety, and… and want to protect them the best I can,” he confessed. His gaze traveled to Launchpad’s snoozing form, sprawled out on the couch. 

He felt a sudden passionate sensation strike him and made that apparent through his advice.

“But at some point you gotta realize you can only do _so much_ worrying and _so much_ putting someone else’s needs over your own. You have to take care of yourself, too, and accept that the person you love is capable, and… a-and strong! They can handle a hundred plane crashes and a thousand snake bites and head trauma that would kill almost anyone else and still be okay enough to pick up groceries or-- or snuggle up against you on a cold winter’s night watching reruns-”

“I have a feeling you stopped talking about Webby at the end there,” Lena bluntly chimed in. 

He pried his eyes away from Launchpad and turned his attention back on Lena, his face burning out of embarrassment. “...Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Lena shook her head. “No, I get it, man. Love kinda does that to you.”

“It really does, kid.”

They remained like that for a second; not talking, not _arguing,_ but finding a fresh sort of solace in each other’s company… something Drake didn’t anticipate from the conversation.

Only when he felt her pull away did he let his arm fall back to his side. Lena stood up, but didn’t immediately go to the guest room. Rather, she lingered in place for a moment, teetering on the balls of her feet, perhaps debating what to say next.

It didn’t take too long for her to make a decision:

“Thanks, though. For talking to me and listening to what I had to say. I really do appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Drake replied warmly. He followed suit, pulling himself to his feet. Once again, he surveyed the scene Launchpad passed out, his body (as well as the entire couch) being lit by flashing colors from the TV, the next episode on the tape playing without interruption. 

He turned to Lena, who witnessed the same thing.

“...Want to stay up and watch the rest of the episode with me?” he offered sincerely, gesturing to the part of the couch that wasn’t taken up by Launchpad’s splayed-out limbs.

Lena stared at the TV for a second before waving him off. “I think I’ll pass. Launchpad wore me out on this show for like, the next decade,” she admitted. “But you? Knock yourself out.”

Drake did just that: collapsing on the couch next to his partner, nestling affectionately at his side. Lena sauntered past, taking a few steps into the hallway towards where the guest room was. She stopped where she stood, however, and stuck her head out.

“See you in the morning,” she said. “Make sure you don’t wake up Sleeping Beauty over there.”

Drake chuckled. “Believe me. I couldn’t wake him up even if I tried.” He grabbed one of Launchpad’s arms and dropped it for emphasis. “Sleep well, Lena.”

And for one of the first times, Drake made Lena smile; a _genuine,_ non-smirk of a smile. 

* * *

  


“So, what do you think of her?”

The question didn’t come out of nowhere, per se, but it certainly seemed to throw Lena for a loop.

When the cookout was first mentioned, Launchpad was absolutely giddy.

Immediately he offered to man the grill, with Drake, remembering the last time Launchpad was put in charge of cooking, ultimately consenting... under the condition that Lena would stay with him and watch.

He knew fully well that he wasn’t the _greatest_ griller in St. Canard, but he sometimes wished that Drake had a little more faith in him.

Whatever lingering dolefulness he had quickly diminished once he realized he would get to spend time with Lena; a pastime he was quite fond of. She could be outrageously snide at times, sure, but she always spoke what was on her mind. Launchpad always found that an admirable trait in a person.

Her ‘stay’ at their place gained legal permanence after a year. Papers were drawn up and completed and filed. She gained both of their last names in the process. Drake and Launchpad had thought it felt right, considering that they were unmarried at the time and hadn’t decided on one or the other.

It took Lena a lot longer to start calling them both ‘Dad’. Not that Launchpad could blame her; she had been sixteen and lacking a parent figure of any sort all of her life. 

But when she said it to Launchpad that very first time, half-asleep and most likely not even _cognizant_ of it, asking where he had put the box of _Gizmo-O’s_ , he couldn’t stop tears spilling down his face. Nor could he stop himself from enveloping Lena in an unintentionally smothering hug. 

To say that the title made him happy was a gross understatement. He accepted the role of _‘dad’_ with great tact, as did he eventually with _‘husband’_.

Only when they had all settled into their new status-quo had things begun to change drastically once more with the addition of another kid thrown into the mix.

They had met Gosalyn during a run-in with Taurus Bulba, a particularly treacherous crime boss. She was an orphan seeking refuge from his wrath, needing a place separate from the orphanage she could stay in peace, and the Mallard-McQuack household seemed like a logical fit. 

Of course, like Lena before her, the ‘stay’ was prolonged. It had been two whole weeks since Bulba’s plans had officially been foiled and he and his goons had been apprehended. Yet, Gosalyn remained with them.

And now, there they were: Launchpad grilling and babbling aimlessly about how hot sauce enhances any food, Lena blowing up the remaining pool toys, Gosalyn fervently pumping water into her squirt gun and Drake supervising from the comfort of his beach chair. Truly, an idyllic suburban family. 

Well, aside from all the superhero stuff, of course. But that was far from relevant on days like these, where the biggest crime present was the amount of sunscreen Drake made sure everyone had smeared onto them.

All of this felt so welcome to Launchpad. He struggled to think of the last time he had felt so secure with his place in the world.

The only thing that would cement it would be to commit to the adoption. And for that, Launchpad needed an endorsement from a certain someone. 

The last pump of air had successfully inflated the beach ball to Lena’s liking, as she removed her bill from the valve and quickly sealed it off with the cap. She perked up and glanced at Launchpad, slightly confused. 

“Who? Gos?” Lena questioned. 

“No, Webby.”

Her eyes widened (almost appeared to _glow_ , even, but Launchpad figured it was just a trick of the light) and her grip on the ball tightened. “What?”

“Just kidding! I already know what you think about her,” he said with a wink, prompting an eye-roll from the teen. “But, yeah, about Gos.”

Lena smiled, opting to hug the ball now rather than clench it until it popped. 

“I like her. She’s pretty spunky.” Good old Lena. Nothing but honest. 

Perhaps too preoccupied by his daughter's company, Launchpad was most definitely _not_ keeping his eye on the grill. 

Lena’s face twisted into an expression of disconcert. 

“Uh, I think that burger’s on fire.”

“Oh! Oh, shoot,” he muttered, scraping the smoldering hunk of meat off the grill and discarding it into the grass. He looked back at Lena, sweat lining his brow. “Do you want to help me with the grill for a second?”

“Sure thing.”

Casually tossing the beach ball into the pool with a slight ripple, she joined by Launchpad’s side. The other spatula was soon in her hand as she carefully inspected both burgers and hot dogs, anticipating when to flip them over. 

Launchpad took a step back for the moment, exhaling deeply and airing out his damp Hawaiian shirt. Who knew that standing next to a hot grill would cause someone to work up such a sweat?

Sufficiently cooled down, he swerved around, about to thank Lena for her help, when he noticed her focus was diverted away from cooking.

He followed her gaze, quickly realizing it was fixated at the shallow end of the pool. Gosalyn had managed to convince Drake to swim with his button-up shirt on, somehow (or more likely, Launchpad supposed, she squirted him with her water soaker and he went in for the heck of it). She began squealing joyfully at the top of her lungs (a sound everyone in the household was accustomed to) as Drake splashed closer and closer towards her. 

The floaties covering Gosalyn’s tiny arms rendered her attempts to paddle away useless as Drake caught up and scooped her up in his arms.

“Hey! No fair!” she cried out, socking him weakly in the shoulder. “You made me wear these stupid things!”

Instead of a rebuttal, Drake merely spun her around, her feet barely grazing the water as they both laughed in unison. 

“He seems to like her a lot, too,” Lena commented, drawing Launchpad back to the grill.

“Oh, yeah. He does! And so do I. Which leads me to my next point…” His hand began to rub the back of his neck, still slick with sweat, as he braced for the reaction.

“How would you feel if she lived with us, permanently?”

Lena froze mid burger-flip. She peered up at Launchpad, searching his face for… deception? Evidence of him just joking around? Whatever it was, she certainly couldn’t find any trace of it.

“...For real?” Lena eventually whispered, disbelievingly. Launchpad started off with a nod. 

“DW and I have been talking about it for a while now. He had been... a little hesitant to ask you how you felt, so I offered to do it!” he explained cheerfully.

Lena scoffed. “ _Hesitant,_ huh? The old man afraid I’d get mad and find a way to conjure up my dormant Hell powers on him?”

“Nah, nothing like that. He thought you might say no.”

This seemed to strike a chord with Lena, who's previously unreadable expression very quickly turned sour. She took a step back from the grill, hanging her head. It was almost enough to drive Launchpad into a panic-- maybe he said too much and hurt her feelings-- when Lena chose to meet his gaze again. 

“Why would it matter what I think?” she asked earnestly. Her tone was dejected, doubtful… heavy with years of rejection. “You guys are the ones adopting.”

Launchpad felt a sharp pang of sadness rip harshly through his lungs as he took in a deep (albeit shaky) breath, trying to steady himself. His heart, big and full as it was, seemed to shatter. How could she, after all this time, still be so distant? To somehow think that her input didn’t matter to him and Drake?

He tried not to let the disappointment filter into his voice. “Why would you ask that? You’re part of this family too, you know. What you think is important to us.”

Whatever doubts Lena had before seemed to crumble at this. The look that made its way onto her face Launchpad was already familiar with; it was the same look she had when she accidentally lashed out against one of the triplets. Or intentionally broke one of Drake’s collectibles after a heated argument. 

Clumsily, she continued to man the grill, perhaps pondering what she had said. 

“G-gee, if only my opinion was valued on stuff we ate for dinner, too,” she finally joked, poking at a particularly burnt hot dog with the edge of her spatula. “But, uh, thanks for caring, I guess. And if you wanted my permission, then... you have it.”

That tight feeling in his lungs was quelled instantaneously. He watched her with big pleading eyes, eyes that asked, _‘you really mean it?’_ . Ever the honest one, Lena knowingly beamed back. Somehow, he managed to resist the urge to hug the daylights out of her (as he didn’t want to draw attention to them… he wanted to surprise both Drake _and_ Gosalyn with the news), but that didn’t stop the tears from welling up. 

He managed to get out two words.

“Thanks, Lena.” And he meant it with every fiber of his being. 

The sizzling of meat and the distant sounds of splashing and giggling was sufficient white noise as both father and daughter stood together, lost in thought. 

Launchpad couldn’t read Lena’s mind, but he hoped that she was just as excited to have Gosalyn as a daughter as he was. 

_Oops,_ w-wait. Have her as a _sister._ Woof. These long nights of crime-fighting were really doing a number on him. He was thankful for the blunder being unspoken when he heard Lena begin to sob. Hysterically sob.

Wait, no-- she was _laughing_ hysterically _._

“What?” he asked, growing concerned.

Through labored huffs and the last of her howling dying down, Lena wiped a tear from her eye. “It’s just… two and a half years ago, I was _nothing._ Just a ghost in a timeless void. And now I’m standing here by a pool, grilling with my two dads and soon-to-be little sister. If you had told me that just five years ago, I never in a million years would have believed you. It’s just so wild to me.”

Understanding and kind, Launchpad nodded along. 

“Two and a half years ago, I was living out of Mr. McDee’s garage,” he stated, as if the two were as equally dire.

However, Lena took no offense to it, as seen as plainly as the grin on her face. “I guess we both found something better out of life.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.”

The grill hissed and popped as Lena and Launchpad kept pressing patties. 

“You know, you guys are building a rep for yourselves,” Lena warned playfully, eyebrow raised. “There are gonna be orphan kids lining the streets, waiting to get to _your_ door cause you two are so soft, you can’t say no to anyone.”

Launchpad let out a snort, legitimately charmed by the notion. “I mean, hey, if we got the room…!”

Abruptly, he was cut off by the taste of chlorine in his mouth and his face becoming absolutely drenched. _“Ack!”_

“Careful, Gosalyn!” he heard Drake scold. “He’s cooking the food! You could’ve soaked the burgers in _pool water._ ”

“I was aiming for _Lena!”_

Sopping wet red hair blocked Launchpad’s line of sight as he sputtered out: “Hey! I’ll get you back for that… the second I’m done cooking these things.”

An elbow lightly nudged him in the ribs. He took off the backwards baseball cap he had been wearing and combed the hair out of his eyes to find Lena looking at him expectantly. _Huh?_

“Huh?” he said aloud.

Feigning annoyance, Lena gave him a playful shove. “I got the grill, pops. Go for it.”

“Y’sure?”

“She shot outta bounds. It would be a crime not to get her back for an illegal hit.”

Whatever force that had held him back from hugging before had worn off. He took her into his embrace, brief but just as tender as ever, before gifting her a peck on the forehead. 

The drenched baseball cap was thrown onto her head and she let out a startled shriek, pool water saturating the pink highlights in her hair. 

* * *

“Gosalyn!”

The cry was lost to a sea of smoke and fire, engulfing the entire building. 

They had only separated from Drake and Launchpad twenty minutes ago, after being instructed to wait outside in the Thunderquack. That wasn’t enough time for anything drastically bad to happen, right?

As Lena came to find out, sometimes, things could go wrong in a matter of seconds. 

Their fathers should have known better to leave them alone, bored and restless. They should have anticipated that Gosalyn, mischievous as ever, would snatch her arrows from the back and Lena would be itching to push her magic powers to their full potential. 

Or maybe that was just an excuse for Lena to shift the responsibility for what had just happened off of her conscience. 

It was a good time to practice, Lena had thought. To try and hone in more on Gosalyn’s archery skills. Better than counting wads of gum under the nearby park benches, they both figured. 

Lena’s powers, the same ones that had been dormant for _so_ long after her return from the shadow realm, had come back in a steady trickle. All it took for them to resurface, as it turned out, was a lot of love, support, and releasing of over a decade’s worth of unspoken trauma and emotions. 

With her magic back at full-force, she had begged Drake enough for him to let her begin to train. Never before had she felt inclined to use her powers to become a vigilante, but she had thought a lot about Drake and Launchpad, both being sufficient in combat… and both lacking in actual powers. 

Sheer grit and hand-to-hand fighting were fine on their own, but what happens when a situation arises that needs more than that? Lena figured they needed all the help they could get.

And that didn’t stop at just _her_ offering assistance; Gosalyn, as it turned out, had a knack for archery. She had been gifted a single arrow each night of Hanukkah, before she flat-out told Drake and Launchpad, _“I know it’s a bow and arrow set. You really gonna keep spreading it out like this?”_

She hadn’t been allotted much time to use said bow and arrow set, however, since Drake was very stringent on the matter of _where_ and _when_ and _how_ it could be used. 

Regardless of what little experience she had, Gosalyn already proudly bestowed herself of a superhero name: _Quiverwing Quack_. 

_“Cute,”_ Lena had remarked, upon seeing her name and the tons of doodles associated. _“You Frankensteined our dad’s names together and added a ‘Quiver’ to the front to make your own.”_

Gosalyn became red in the face and seething as she protested, _“What?! No! I didn’t do that. I came up with that name all by myself! Maybe our dads were the ones who stole_ my _name. You ever think about that?!”_

An abandoned building seemed like the perfect place for practice at the time. Lena hadn’t put much thought into it. Nor did she think about the logistics of shooting fire arrows inside a highly-flammable structure, made of wood and filled to the brim with garbage. 

All she wanted was to practice her new fire-conjuring spell and to get Gosalyn practicing archery.

She hadn’t intended on her escaping while her sister lingered in the wreckage, being consumed by magenta flames.

Fear, the intense, suffocating kind of fear felt raw in Lena’s chest. It was the same feeling she got when she was lost to her worst nightmare of Webby, dying by her accidental hand. When Launchpad had crashed and his body remained limp too long for Lena’s liking. When Drake went on a dangerous stakeout, alone, and didn’t answer her texts for hours upon hours. 

When she saw _the M-word_ again. 

She didn’t dare to dwell on these things now; she had to do something. She didn’t have any other choice but to use the powers that had caused all this.

Approaching the opening once more, her eyes radiated white while her hands glowed a dull purple. Despite all her desperation and terror-induced sloppiness, she managed to get a handle on the blaze and pulled it apart with a grunt, dispersing fire and smoke.

Her scream rang out again.

_“Gosalyn?!”_

This time, however, Lena noticed movement. In the fissure of the inferno, Gosalyn’s tiny form managed to crawl out. Her body shook with an intense coughing fit. 

Without thinking (she really needed to stop doing that), Lena released the fire and ran forward to drag Gosalyn the rest of the way out. 

“Gos! Are you okay?”

Managing to hoist her up, Lena hauled her over to a nearby resting place, sheltered and safe and free from fire. Ash coated the girl’s entire figure, as well as her back pack and the remaining arrows jutting dangerously from its’ opening.

As this point, Gosalyn had successfully stopped gasping for air. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she spat out. “I’m fine.”

Lena knew she looked as unconvinced as she felt. “Are… are you sure?” Surrounded by asphalt as her only cushion, Gosalyn propped herself up against the brick wall.

“It was just a little smoke and fire,” she maintained, brushing it off. “What do I look like to you? Some kinda wimp?”

This did not satisfy Lena. She reached out to inspect Gosalyn’s arms and legs. It was exceedingly difficult to see any injury past the soot that caked her feathers. 

“Give me your backpack,” she commanded.

Gosalyn let out a groan, but complied. “You’re not gonna preen me, are you?”

“No. You still have those baby wipes Dad packs with you?”

“They’re called _wet wipes,_ Lena,” Gosalyn corrected with particular venom laced in her tone. 

Unzipping the cinder-ridden backpack, Lena stuck her hand in and began to dig, feeling around its’ contents. She fished out two items: a wet wipe container and a box of bandaids.

“ _Ah,_ jackpot.”

Not the greatest first-aid kit, but for a makeshift one, it was better than nothing.

Lena pulled a bunch of wipes out all at once, soapy and dripping, and started cleaning up Gosalyn. Her sister remained unusually quiet throughout the process, only showing reaction in the form of a soft _hiss_ when Lena swabbed over a scrape.

Lena watched Gosalyn, amused at how well she appeared to be doing. She voiced that amusement aloud:

“You’re pretty resilient to have handled all that.”

“Thank- _BLEUGH!”_ Gosalyn’s reply was suppressed by Lena sweeping a wet wipe against her face, venturing dangerously close to her mouth. “I could almost taste that!”

Offering up a smirk in return, Lena continued to rub ash off of her forehead as Gosalyn recoiled and gagged.

“You know, you remind me a lot of myself, when…” Lena found herself trailing off, pausing the action of wiping momentarily. _What could she even tell her? How could she even explain it in words she could understand?_

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. “...When… what?”

“I… just realized I never actually… experienced being a kid your age. I guess technically the correct phrasing is ‘after I was around for a couple of years after being created’, but that doesn’t roll off the tongue as well.”

“Wait… so you were just… born the age you were a few years ago?”

With the question prompted, Lena felt an unpleasant, uncomfortable sensation festering inside of her. Perhaps it was dumb to bring this up to Gosalyn when she had only been told bits and pieces of her life before becoming a Mallard-McQuack. As mature as she was, she was still just a little kid, and this kind of stuff was hard to comprehend (even _Drake_ had had trouble following what all she went through, at first).

“...Yeah, you could say that,” Lena replied hesitantly. Gosalyn’s face scrunched up, and Lena felt her heart drop a little.

“That’s weird. How come you never told me that before?” 

“Like you said, it’s _weird.”_

The pained sentiment hung between the two and almost immediately Gosalyn backtracked. 

“Oh,” she said, remorse prominent in her tone. “Well… bein’ a kid isn’t all that great anyways, so you didn’t miss out on squat. You’re too short, your hands are too greasy, and nobody listens to you! Even when what you’re saying is the greatest idea of all time!”

Anxiety finally released its’ wretched grip off of Lena. Appreciative of the gesture, she began to laugh at her sister’s proclamations. Laugh harder than she had in a week. 

“Still hung-up over Scrooge turning down your idea for that ‘Quiverwing Quack-themed Starducks drink’, huh?”

Annoyed, Gosalyn clicked her tongue. “It woulda made _billions_. That old geezer doesn’t know anything about business.”

The last patch of soot was successfully lifted off of Gosalyn’s feathers; the darkened wipes discarded in the nearest dumpster. Three band aids were applied gently to the cuts on Gosalyn’s kneecaps. 

“And… there,” Lena breathed out, hovering above her. She was satisfied with her work. “I think you’re all good now. You probably still have a little soot in your hair, but… you can wash that out when we get home.”

“I feel sticky and gross,” Gosalyn groaned out. She began to rub uncomfortably at her forearms.

“Better than feeling like you’re covered in dirt.”

“Mmm… point taken. Thanks, Lena.”

Lena gave a nod in response and moved to stuff the disinfectant wipes and band aids back in Gosalyn’s bag when she heard the abrupt declaration: 

“You know you are like, the _coolest_ person I know, right?”

Lena thought of herself gifted with the ability to read people with ease, so it was evident time and time again that Gosalyn harbored a deep admiration for her. 

But, there was something about her saying it aloud, so spontaneously but so _earnestly_ , it made her want to return the gesture back in full. To convey how much she thought of her, how much she cared for her; the words simply couldn’t come to describe the intensity she felt.

Instead, what came out of Lena was, “Well, right back at ya.” And the belongings were packed, the bag zipped back up.

The dim lighting of the street lamps made the arrows jutting out of Gosalyn’s backpack, despite still covered in ash, glisten with a sort of unexplainably captivating sparkle. Gosalyn struggled to wrestle her eyes away from them.

“I’m officially never going back to using regular arrows ever again,” she whispered, stare glued to the arrows. “Nope. I’m bound to the _flames_ now.”

Frowning, Lena picked up the grimey backpack and slung it over her shoulder, causing Gosalyn to whine. 

This could not be the new norm, Lena thought forcefully. It had been scary enough the first time.

“I admire your moxy a lot but... you gotta be more careful. _We_ gotta be more careful. You’re lucky it was just your knees getting scraped up. It could have been so much worse.”

  
“Ugh, _what?”_ Gosalyn grumbled, her hands forming fists. “You’ve been hanging around Dad too much. You sound just like him, minus the nerdy inflection.”

In that moment, every squabble with Drake, every instance of back talking him or even disregarding one of his rules replayed in Lena’s head and she knew that Gosalyn was right. Still, the intense fear she had felt from that short time where she couldn’t see any sign of Gosalyn within the fire was still fresh in her brain. Too fresh to ignore, too frightening to downplay. 

“I know he’s too strict sometimes, but, I mean… he trusts us enough to go patrolling sometimes. That’s pretty cool,” she said. “And he trusts us not to be stupid. So I’m gonna try my best to be less stupid. You should do the same. Okay?”

A pout remained on Gosalyn’s face but she eventually gave a small nod. “...Yeah. Okay.”

Lena pulled Gosalyn to her feet, not letting go of her hand once she was up. “We oughta meet back up with them. They’re probably worried about us,” she stated, peering into the alley across the street. 

“Oh, yeah. Or else we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

And then they were off. 

Unsure of what direction the Thunderquack was in, Lena decided to start them off going westward. Her grip on Gosalyn’s hand tightened protectively as they encountered darker, less-lit areas of the neighborhood. She wasn’t going to let anything else bad happen to her tonight. Not while _she_ was around.

The two had only made it another block or so before they heard a deep voice shout out:

“There! Down that alley!”

Sprinting towards them was a familiar silhouette of a broad-shouldered man, soon followed by a smaller, more slender figure chasing closely behind him. 

It was soon obvious that Launchpad was the one in the front approaching them. He kneeled down in front of the girls, relief seemingly washing over him.

“We’ve been looking all over for you! Where-”

Launchpad was cut off by Drake worming his way past him, dropping to his knees and clasping his arms around both girls at once. “Are you two okay?! Are you hurt?”

He reeled back to look at them (or, more likely, to look for any visible injuries). 

Drake’s eyes were noticeably bloodshot, Lena saw, his entire face drooping in a tired manner. It wasn’t a stretch to say that the disappearance of the two of them was likely the root of the apparent stress. 

His bill had curled up into a sneer. “Oh Gos, your clothes are filthy,” he remarked with disdain. So filthy, as it turned out, that there was a black spot on Drake’s suit where her body had been pressed against him.

“She scraped up her knees a bit,” Lena reported, gesturing downwards to the bandaid-covered cuts.

Sheepishly, Gosalyn dug one of her heels into the dirt. “And I might’ve… inhaled just a _teeeeeensy_ amount of smoke…?”

“Smoke?!” Drake spluttered out. He looked between his two daughters, trying his best to gauge their sincerity. 

“You weren’t…” He trailed off, and Lena confirmed his suspicion.

“We were. I-I was. It was _my_ idea.”

“What?!” Gosalyn angrily yelped. Drake shook his head, disappointment clear as day in his expression. Situated behind him was Launchpad, mirroring that same emotion.

“Lena, we’ve _talked about this,”_ Drake told her, pained. “You cannot be lighting her arrows on fire. You haven’t done that spell enough to know the consequences.”

It was Lena’s turn to feel skittish. “I… I know. I just wanted us to get some practice in, I thought maybe I could give her some pointers--”

“No! No, no, we came up with the idea together!” Gosalyn burst out, suddenly clinging to Drake’s cape. “Lena’s just taking the fall for it because she thinks she’s being righteous or… or something. We both were responsible! And Lena used her powers to help me out, a-and clean me up!”

Tears began to spatter the soft purple fabric. Fists full of cape, she looked up at Drake with wide, imploring eyes.

“Please don’t be mad at her, Dad. We’re sorry.”

Taken by surprise, Drake raked a hesitant hand through Gosalyn’s hair before meeting Lena’s gaze. There was a shift in his demeanor; no longer did he seem disappointed in her, rather, perplexion painted his features. 

Lena decided to take her sister’s lead. “Yeah, we are really, _really_ sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She watched Launchpad scoot over to them and place a supportive hand on Drake’s shoulder.

“Don’t be too hard on them, Drake,” he told him. “They apologized, and nobody got seriously hurt.”

This seemed to do it for him. Drake sighed, exasperated. “Yeah… yeah, I know that. Just… please. No more fire arrows, for my sake. Okay?”

Gosalyn, withdrawn from Drake’s hold on her and cheeks still glistening with tears, exchanged a knowing glance with Lena. 

“Okay,” they both replied simultaneously.

Drake smiled, the weariness that was present in his face seeming to vanish. “Thanks, girls.”

Clapped his hands together, Launchpad caused his family to jump, drawing attention onto him. “Well. I think the fact that nobody died tonight is a cause for celebration,” he proclaimed, proud and beaming. He leaned down towards Gosalyn and Lena. “Who’s hungry?”

Responses from each family member arose, comforting in their predictability.

“Oooh! Oooh! _Me!”_

“I could go for a bite.”

“We have food at home, you know,” Drake piped in, half-jokingly. His husband’s input was all but ignored.

“Takeout it is, then!” Launchpad exclaimed gleefully.

With the act of Gosalyn being thrust onto Launchpad’s shoulders (much to her delight), and Lena walking alongside Drake towards where the Thunderquack was parked, a smile surfaced on her face, overtaking her entire expression. 

This family was as strange and flawed and emotionally charged as she was, and she felt completely at home with her place in it.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this because i love lena and i love the mallard family and i think they would have cool dynamics together! i know fully well it won’t ever happen in the show (nor do i really want it to) and i know that scrooge already offered up a place in the family to lena in canon, but just ignore that for the sake of it being a cute lil AU thing i had fun writing


End file.
